Girl, 11 by Amy Clarke (grave mercy TXT) 📗

after Nora escaped. No wife or family of his own to miss him, poor guy. There was suspicion he had run away with a married woman he was having an affair with—someone from his office. Apparently, neither of them showed up for work after that day, and no one ever heard from them again. Rumor was the woman’s husband was abusive, so everyone assumed that’s why they ran off together and didn’t tell anyone where they were going. Her husband seems to have gone AWOL at the same time. I looked into him, but from what I can tell, he used a fake name on their marriage certificate and there are no records of him before 1990. His wife, though, she has a whole history. Her social security number has never been listed on another job or credit card application. She didn’t have a passport, so it’s unlikely she got on an international flight.

Now, it’s possible they really did just run away together. Back then, you could cross the border into Mexico without a passport. Maybe they drove to Central America and are living a life of leisure on the beach, selling hemp bracelets for enough food to get by. But I doubt it.

Elle:

I doubt it too.

Elle voice-over:

As many of you know, I plan as much as I can, but a lot of my investigation happens in real time. I get more information and tips as soon as I start airing episodes, and this case is no exception. This is a lead we’ve only been working for a couple weeks, but we have already turned up a huge break in the case. It’s very possible that this couple Tina uncovered were that couple in the cabin. If that’s the case, given his use of a fake name, it seems that TCK was a cuckolded husband who killed his wife and her lover, then burned them in that cabin to cover his tracks. We don’t know, but we have shared the information Tina gathered with Minneapolis PD, as well as the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, and they are looking into it now. We have new evidence. We are breathing life into this case. And TCK, if you’re listening, we are going to find you. This time, it’s you who’s on a clock—and your time is almost up.

14

Elle

January 15, 2020

On the way to the missing girl’s house, Ayaan filled Elle in on the case. Yesterday morning, on her way to the bus stop, an eleven-year-old girl named Amanda Jordan disappeared. The police hadn’t been able to locate any eyewitnesses, and the bus driver said that Amanda was not at the stop by the time she pulled up. Only one of the five kids waiting for the bus remembered seeing any adults in the area: a young man standing on the sidewalk down the street. She had described him as being tall, Caucasian, with black hair. The girl’s parents had been asked yesterday, but they couldn’t think of anyone they knew that matched the description.

“But I was having a hard time getting anything useful out of them,” Ayaan said as she pulled onto a quiet residential street. “They were both bordering on hysterical. There’s an officer with them now, just in case of a ransom call, but apparently they have barely spoken since I left yesterday afternoon.” She shook her head. “It never gets easier, cases like these, but her parents seemed particularly unstable. The mother blames herself.”

“Why?” Elle asked, shuffling through the notes Ayaan had taken on the case so far.

“She usually watched her daughter until she got on the bus, but yesterday she got a phone call, so she walked away for a moment. When she came back, the bus had come and gone. She just assumed Amanda was on it.”

Elle shook her head. It was natural for the mother to feel guilty, but guilt was a useless emotion. More than that, it was detrimental. Paralyzing. They wouldn’t get anything from her until they could push her past it.

Ayaan parked behind the squad car on the street, far enough from the curb that Elle could get out without stepping into a snowbank. The commander stood at the foot of the driveway and pointed at a right diagonal across the street. “The bus stop is there. Between five and ten kids get on each day; it varies since a few of their moms work part-time and drive them to school some days. From the Jordans’ front door, you can kind of see the spot where the kids wait, but it’s partially obscured. Mrs. Jordan says usually there’s enough kids waiting in a group there that she can at least see when Amanda joins up with them after crossing the road.”

She turned back to the house, and Elle looked with her. “Sandy Jordan was standing inside her porch with the storm door shut, watching through the glass. As soon as Amanda left the house, their landline rang. From the phone records, we know the call came in at eight twenty-seven. The bus driver showed up less than three minutes later, at eight thirty. Somewhere in that time, Amanda was taken.”

“And no one actually saw the kidnapping?”

Ayaan looked across the road again. The bright glare from the snow made her brown eyes glow. “Not as far as we could tell. Officers canvassed the neighborhood, but none of the other parents saw anything. Since Amanda’s house is around this slight bend, we figure there must have been blind spots from where the parents were watching. We interviewed the parents, the bus driver, and all the kids at the bus stop yesterday. A couple of the kids seemed nervous, of course, but they just wanted to help. The only other information we have is from the bus driver. She said she’s sure she saw a van in the area that she didn’t recognize. A dark blue van, unmarked, no plates. She keeps an eye out for that kind of thing. Watches too